


The Lap of Luxury Wears Leather

by your_taxidermy



Category: Original Work
Genre: 1st person, Drug Addiction, F/M, Mutual Pining, Origin Story, Original Fiction, Pining, Romantic Comedy, Sex Addiction, Sexual Content, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, rich boys dont have hearts, romance story
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-09
Updated: 2019-08-09
Packaged: 2020-08-13 07:17:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20170336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/your_taxidermy/pseuds/your_taxidermy
Summary: How long can Blanche keep up with the lavish lifestyle provided to her by her devilishly handsome boss Manuel? Drugs, sex, and company deals are a lot to take in for the small town  Birmingham girl. The heavy burden of her sick father weighs her shoulders down with every passing work hour, working hard to earn that special raise to bring home to buy the insulin for her father. Manuel, a rich man born with a silver spoon in hand and owner of every club, restaurant, and plaza in Manhattan attempts to fill the hole in his heart with women, clothes, and luxury. Even when he has it all, Manuel lacks true intimacy. As he sees Blanche tearing at the seams as her father gets worse, he offers her a once in a lifetime opportunity.





	The Lap of Luxury Wears Leather

**Author's Note:**

> Enjoy :) AO3 is being funky but this chapter is titled Introduction

_ Nightshade, what a pretty name. The purple flashing letters caught my eye as my GPS on my phone informed me I reached my destination. The place was huge, too big to be just a club. I’m not here to drink, find a date, or dance the night away. I need to work, I need money. Manhattan is sucking my wallet dry, I hate this city, I hate New York. I miss the back roads already but something is pulling me inside this place and it’s not just the money. While sixteen hourly pay is nice, this city of lights will steal it just as it is given to me. As I walk into the building, there’s a flight of steps and an elevator. I don’t know where to go. I walk into the dance floor and it’s not the cheap dance club you’d find in Alabama where the single moms work, this place had class. It may have dancing boys and girls, things that would make me cover my eyes, sure, but I can tell the kind of folks who come here. Folks who have money and spend it like a kid in a candy shop, twenty-five cents for a bag of candy, yet these people here from twenty-five-thousand on wine and what I spend on utilities, they buy leather gloves. _

_ I hate the smell of night clubs, all I can smell is sweat and beer that’s probably worth more than my house, adding in the thrift shop clothes I just scraped up the change to buy two nights ago. Even the scent of that old, dingy shop was better than this place. Lights are flashing in my face, I can barely see what I’m walking into until a man puts his hands on my shoulder to walk past me. “I’m sorry!” I say but I don’t think he hears me, or even cares for that matter. The music is so loud, I can’t hear myself think. _

_ Finding the place was hard enough, big city driving is scary when everything moves so much. Nightshade Nightclub owned by Nightshade INC, of course. It sounds decent enough but if my father heard the term nightclub he would banish me from the place. _

_ This is not the job I would take if I had another option, I hate night clubs, I hate drinking. What is the point of getting so drunk you can’t remember the fun you had? A slower song plays, I’ve heard a thousand times on the radio, I’ve always wanted to listen but my father never liked hearing profanities and swear words, sometimes I think it’ll make his heart go out he gets so upset. It’s silly, yes, but I respect his choice as my father after all. I skip the songs I want to hear new things, have a taste of a fresh genre. I still love gospel hymns, bluegrass, and classic country, sometimes I wish my old man would let me breathe, he still thinks I’m a little girl, and in some sense, I am. He always took care of me, it’s time for me to do the same for him. I must be the parent and he is my child. _

_ I can’t focus with flashing lights and dancing drunk people running into me, slamming their sweaty bodies into each other. “Sir! Can you direct me to the second floor?” he ignores me. _

_ “Sir!” I say again, tapping his leather-clad shoulder. “Can you direct me to the second floor? I’m here for a job interview?” A job interview at five in the afternoon, how smart of me. The secretary was little help, for the record, I never imagined a secretary working at a night club. But this isn’t just any night club, it’s one of the big bucks, city-boy party houses. The kind of places you see in movies, the place that has a restaurant on the top floor. A place I’ve never entered, a place I don’t want to be in. My father is going to wash my mouth with soap just by proxy if he ever found out the creative swear words I have heard in the past forty-five seconds, some over the speakers, the rest from people’s mouths. I don’t fit in with a place like this, I am not dressed for this place. I leave the man be and let him drink another, I know he won’t be of service to me. _

_ I walk to the bar, my feet are killing me and I’m pretty sure I just stepped over a beer bottle. If I fell, I would ruin my skirt and look like a total fool in front of my possible new boss. I am so nervous, the secretary told me nothing about him even when I asked in the sweetest southern belle voice I could manage. Was he nice at least? “Hey, sexy girl, are you here all by yourself?” There’s vodka on his voice, I don’t trust him. A drinking man is a dangerous man. _

_ I smiled at him and walk away. He grabs my wrist. “Hey, did you hear me?” he says again, taking a swig. “I’m sorry, I’m not here for fun. Can you direct me to Mr. Manuel Song?” _

_ “Nahhh, but I can buy you a drink, c’ mon, lil’ girl, loosen up a little bit. Don’t be a prude.” he says louder as his large hands hold me tighter. “Please, let me go,” I tried to sound larger than life, larger than I was, but my voice was that of a church mouse. My mother stressed politeness, eagerness to please, and good manners. All the things this man did not have. “N-no, I can not be late, let me go.” My heart is pounding in my ears, red flags are going off in my head and sirens are screaming. I can’t block them out, I’m not a stupid little girl anymore. “Oh, come on, don’t get those panties in a twist, assuming you’re even wearing any, all the women here are just looking for a drunk guy to fuck.” He is disgusting, a man who has no respect for those around him. People see but no one helps, people see my struggle but no one bats an eye from their phones and drinks. I’m scared. So very scared. It feels like my heart is bleeding and blood is running from my eyes and ears, I’m so light-headed from anxiety. Just as the song changes, I can hear myself think. I can hear what the woman behind me is saying. _

_ The man’s face is filled with rage. “Stupid bitch!” he screams at me, I can feel his hand tense up to strike me. _

_ “Is there an issue?” a smooth, deep voice comes from behind me. “Yes! Yes, sir, there is a problem, can you please help me?” I rip my hand from the aggressor and step into the stranger. He is tall, warm, he’s wearing the nicest smelling cologne I’ve ever smelled. I find myself hiding, my hands clenched around his tie. He snakes a hand around my hip. I was not expecting a stranger to be so confident. “This man will not leave me alone, I have told him-” he cuts me off. _

_ “Sir, I ask you to leave the lady alone or you can leave the premises, it’s your call. Should I call my bouncer to take you out or will you behave like a gentleman?” he is so assertive, domineering. A man who knows it. “Uh… what are you, her boyfriend?” he sneers at my knight in shining armor, he looks like a prince with his ebony hair, it takes in the lights around us, flashing a rainbow of colors. “No, do I need to be for you to respect a lady? I will tell you once more: should I call my bouncer?” He is serious, I can’t help but be surprised by his protectiveness over a strange woman he doesn’t know. His fingers touch my hips again as he slides in front of me. He towers the man like Goliath. “I really don’t think you want me to call my bouncer. Leave the area before this night becomes very bad for you.” _

_ I can feel the fire crackling in his eyes, his frame is so in your face, the kind of man you avoid at the market because you fear he might punch you in the stomach. Or… that’s just me. _

_ The aggressor has a moment of realization, clarity, whatever you may call it. He says nothing before he turns his back to leave the area. “Thank you so much, sir, you saved me back there.” _

_ He turns to face me, his face is angelic under the purple lights just above him. He leans close to my ear, it’s so hard to hear him even when his facial hair is scratching my ear. “Are you alright?” his voice is soft like a whiskey at the rodeo. As much as I hate drinking, I can never pass up a shot of whiskey with cowboys and cattle. His voice is like a sun shower after a hot, humid day. “I’m fine, though you saved my behind back there. I don’t think he would have left me alone if you weren’t there.” _

_ it’s getting easier to hear my voice, my attempt to sound like an educated city slicker. To sound like an Alabama redneck isn’t something I want a man like this to hear. Rich men don’t like change, rich men don’t like difference, the only thing they care about is the next fashion line made with unpaid labor. I bet his suit costs more than my entire family. But I can only wonder if he knows where his luxury comes from. He raises his eyebrows at me, his eyes are so dark. _

_ “Are you here for an interview dressed like that?” Is he judging me I wonder? _

_ “Yes, sir, I am here for the secretary's office. An odd place but I hear it pays well!” I feel stupid sounding excited, does this man even give a care? _

_ “Oh, then you’ll want to see Manuel. I can take you to him so you don’t get lost.” _

_ “Oh! You don’t have to do that but--” _

_ “Oh, but, darling, I want to. If that man comes back, I want you to be with me. Please, come with me.” _

_ He gives me no choice but walking with him makes me feel safer in this strange place. _

_ He takes my hand, his gloves feel so soft, the leather against my skin reminds me of all the times I sewed leather saddles for the local horse camps, but this is something so much softer. _

_ “For your interview, you actually came in the wrong door. This is obviously the bar.” He sounds so smug like I can’t read a sign. “Follow me.” _

_ He leads me through the dance floor, I wonder if he’s a good dancer too. “You should have taken the elevator, you silly girl,” he says with a smirk, showing off a perfect row of pearly white teeth. He looks like the man you dream over on a magazine. The man my mother would swoon over on TV. _

_ “Elevator or stairs?” _

_ “Elevator, please.” _

_ He chuckles deeply. “Good choice.” _

_ The doors open and he lets me walk in first, his leather gloves rest on the small of my back. “That’s a beautiful skirt you have on. Where did you buy it?” _

_ I was dreading this question. He waits to press the buttons. _

_ “Oh, it was given to me.” Lord forgive the lies I tell. “Well, no matter where you got it, it compliments your figure perfectly.” _

_ What game was he playing here? “Thank you, sir, Manuel must be happy you work for him!” I smile at him, I’m trying to be flashy. He runs his fingers over the elevator buttons, it’s like it never ends. There are so many floors to go to, and here I thought I needed the second one. His eyes seem to drift from the buttons, they are dangerously dark. Like driving down an empty road in the middle of the night. I spent too many nights doing that, escaping the stresses of home and life. I never went anywhere, I just drove. _

_ He hits the 12th floor with purpose, the click is enough to make me focus on the moment. We go up for what feels like forever. “Oh, sir, I never got your name,” I say as he walks out of the elevator with jazz in his step, he seems to twist his feet to turn to face me. _

_ “Manuel Song. Charmed.” _

_ My heart drops all the way to my feet. My cheeks feel like cast-iron skillets over an open flame, and to think I just gripped my potential boss’ tie, the man who snaked his arm around my hip. Pardon my French but oh fuck. _

_ \--- _


End file.
